An Unlikely Fate
by Major-Sass
Summary: Welcome, weary reader. Come join me in a tale of the change of fate of Middle Earth and Thorin and Company. For it is heart-breaking for our favorite characters to wallow in death and the afterlife without any closing. Hopefully our maiden can change that path for them, no? (Rated M for future possible sexual ventures and language)
1. Chapter 1

**Good day/evening/ whatever time it may be dear reader. I have tried my hand with a new story as I have become quite bored.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of The Hobbit.**

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Our story begins on our world. Assuming you and I are both homo-sapiens from planet Earth. Equally, I shall assume that the two of us are in the same dimension, as we shall experience only this one and one other in our time together.

This tale is of woe, destiny, love and heart-wrenching dea— a well I guess I'll leave that all for later. For now, I shall introduce you to our lovely protagonist and main focal point of this storyline.

_Almárëa Eversire. _

Yes, a strikingly odd name to you and I; however, this name is purposeful and has much meaning. Or at least her first name is of importance. I don't except you to know its origins and meanings, but you should know one thing, dear mind-adventurer, her name is not of this realm, dimension, et cetera, et cetera. Ahem. Now before we embark on this voyage of two minds that were fated to meet to witness the happenings of our dear friend, I shall grant you a small amount of information.

Our young lady is, or at one point was, an orphan. Abandoned on the Eversires' land she was found clothed in a beige piece of cloth, not a peep coming from her. The poor, young couple was frightened that she had died, as they had been harvesting crops all day and had just now reached her hiding spot on the edge of the small forest that bordered their farm and ranching land to the west. To the contrary, as Dina — our demure farmwife, picked up the swaddled babe, she began a hiccup like cry that was as frail as a frosted blossom after a thaw.

At discovering that the child was alive, the couple searched desperately for any signs of the mother that could have left her there. They searched for two and a half hours all around their farmstead. As Dina and Alexander met back at the babe's first location, they decided to give up the search and go back to their cottage.

Dina was a skinny, but toned and energetic woman. She could bail hay until it was time to bring the cows in. Her feet were steady and thick with rough pads blackened by barefooted work and many winters. Her hazel eyes were light and dull, unable to see anything twenty yards in front of her, but really nothing about our dear farmwife was special. Her hair was a mousy brown, but had once been a dark cherry at birth, and thanks to her labor and time in the sun it had lost its dark gloss and drummed up a light brown to match her skin tone. She rarely spoke out of turn, even to her husband Alex.

Alex wasn't much of a catch either. He was an average height, burly, dark haired, eyed and skinned from work. He sported several scars and calluses from his ranch work and several accidents. He and Dina had been determined to make a living like their parents had, and they had succeeded thus far. But in one area they were sadly lacking.

Dina was infertile.

The day the poor girl had learned the fate of her blood line she wept. She wept when Alex came in from town; she wept when she heard the children run down the street to the schoolhouse; she wept when they found _her. _Dina had been over-joyed after a month had passed and no one had come to find their little treasure. It had taken some convincing, but Alex had bent to the shy will of his wife. She had given little hints, and cooed to the babe every time she passed the makeshift cradle.

That is how our dear friend came to grow and live among the farmsteads of our world.

Fair-haired and pale skinned, the young child stood out amongst the other children. They gawked at her looks, her nose pointed and turned up at the end. Her blazing cerulean eyes pierced the surroundings and seemed to peer deep into the depths of the children's souls for truth, honor and loyalty. These qualities she barely found in the young ones; or the adults. The only people she felt she could truly have faith in were her dear parents.

Now my friend, surely you see why she is our focal point. _No_? Well then, let me continue to elaborate on our maiden.

She terrified the townspeople. Why? Because she was clever and intuitive. She would sit still and listen. Compile and remember — everything. Her vast knowledge of everything and everyone scared the willies out of them. Our dear Dina had to take her out of school when the youth had started arguing that the teacher was explaining something wrong. For fear of the townspeople stoning or harming the young, quiet child, the Eversires decided to let her teach herself at home. And that is where she expanded her mind to encompass even more subjects and concepts even her parents did not comprehend. By the human age of thirteen, Almárëa knew of astrophysics and the inner workings of calculus. After learning textbook materials, the young blonde grew bored and asked Dina to teach her the womanly aspects of life.

At the age of eighteen, the youth had learned everything her town and parents had to offer. All she could do was wait and watch the world outside. Nature was the one thing she never studied. An ingrained sixth-sense, her mother would happily declare. This sense lead her to walks in the forest. She would look at everything and anything to comprehend its purpose and life.

Dear mind-wanderer, now do you see? Our youngling had to wait a mere two more years before her fate took her captive and swept her away.

Unfortunately, her journey wasn't that of any pleasant manner. She was gruesomely ripped from the fabric of our realm to be thrust into that which only she could alter the path of.

And here, our story begins with precious Almárëa's death…

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**Please, reader, review and let me know what you think. **

**And if you think I should continue - by all means let me know for I am curious. If I am able I will make a poll. If enough wanderers like you want me to continue our tale, then I shall.**


	2. Chapter 2 The Chase

CH 2 The Chase

**AN:It's a little later than I originally planned on posting, but the content turned out really well! I hope you enjoy it! And a special thank you to An Unlikely Fate's very first reviewer, FloraTheCake. :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings_**

**Here's some help for viewers on my writing style: **

_Italics are Almárëa's thoughts_

_"Italics with quotations are dream/ethereal/other worldly beings' dialogue"_

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_Whispers. What are they saying?_

Her vision was dark, fourteen clouded grey shapes moved about, looking at her, gesturing, yelling at the top of their lungs, but never could she hear them scream. Their voices were mere whispers in her ears.

_ I can't hear anything… What are they talking about?_

The only feature she could ever pinpoint on the cloudy figures were their eyes. The only reason being one thing. They would glow varying bright colors. Her favorite were the green and lilac ones. They looked at her with hope, love, faith and trust. The others scared her.

_ "…This one … you have to believe … do not be stubborn…"_

That was the lilac lady… She only knew them apart by their eyes and whispered voices that would echo around her ears as they spoke. They were fighting again, if only she knew what about…

_ "… We cannot … you … how mad … imbecile… another perhaps … you must … do not-"_

The one with light grey eyes was yelling and pointing at her.

_It's coming soon isn't it? God please no. _

She felt a wetness that was apart from the dark space she was in. Almárëa knew then, that she was crying in the waking world, when she was lost in this dark sleep realm she came to dream every night since her eighteenth birthday —two years ago. It would be those fourteen, continually fighting until—

_"…Show her … fate … knowledge … and it's… demise…"_

A figure she came to despise and fear glided towards her through the murky darkness. In her subconsciousness, she cringed away from the figure, but it didn't help nor prevent the ensuing terror…

Almárëa woke in a cold sweat, her body quaking and pale green in sickness. That dream had plagued her consciousness during the day and her dreams at night. The first time it had occurred she shrugged it off, convinced it was just a coincidence and side-effect from her reading fantasy novels before she fell asleep. However, after the first month of nothing but that _nightmare_ she started to worry.

That same worry was always with her. She would look over her shoulder when she helped Father in the fields, or constantly scan the tree line when she helped Mother with housework. The tingling sensation would spark and chill her flesh, even in near hundred degree weather.

But this time, she felt different. Almost relieved when she awoke, sick to her stomach. She wiped sweat from her face and preformed her daily routine of dressing before she deemed herself calm enough to face the day.

Breathing in slowly, she let her breath out slow to placate her frantic heart as she sauntered through the house to the front door. Her heart knew something she did not. But what, she didn't have the slightest clue, and it's not like she could ask the fleshy organ.

Glancing around, Almárëa walked into the field to find her father to give him aid in handling the livestock as they were supposed to prepare for the faire soon with their prized mustang and philly. However, he was no where to be seen … and her mother was not on the porch playing with their deck of cards.

"Mother? Father?" She turned in a circle crying out their names, her voice shaking in fear of being left alone. Her ears strained for their voices, but she heard nothing. Literally nothing. There were no birds chirping and singing to each other, no horses neighing to be let out, no sound of distant cars from the town. What was happening…?

She turned back towards the house only to stop in her tracks immediately. Her eyes zeroed in on black, misty creatures that were hunched over like big dogs, but they were much bigger than any dog she had ever encountered.

She took a step backwards, which unfortunately was a very grave mistake. The shovel and bucket her father used in the field happened to be directly behind her. Her step back knocked the bucket across the shovel which alerted the creepy wolf creatures to her location. The crash and fright caused her to lose her balance and slice her calf on the shovel blade, which only added pain to the deadly concoction of emotions Almárëa was experiencing.

_What if they got mother and father? What did they do to them?_

Her worry escalated her fright, and instinct took over as the creatures started to approach her, sniffing at the air, molten black eyes narrowing at her. Fight or flight. Most definitely flight, there was no way in the known universe she could fight those things, whatever fucked up beasts they were. So she stumbled up to her feet, calf sticky with blood from her fall, and tried to run for the tree line. She ended up limping most of the way, collapsing against a tree before the wicked howl of the creatures pierced her ears. Her eyes widened with terror and she started to run in earnest as adrenaline pumped through her veins. She would not let herself look back at those nasty creatures that were dead set on getting her, her view was of her immediate way of escape — forward.

_Forward, forward, only forward._

She was panting now, her heart beating just as frantically as it had this morning after that horrific dream. She twisted and turned through the forest, trying to find the familiar places she had explored ever since she was younger, but this forest she didn't know. The trees were much older, colossal and twisted. She frantically searched around for anywhere to stop and breath for just a few seconds so she could evade the creatures that were growling behind her.

Just as she wished for a reprieve from her mad dash, a voice whispered maliciously around her as dark fog closed in on her sides and behind her with the creatures.

_"There is no escape …. Surrender now… let the wargs release you from your fleshy confines and fate before it is too late…"_

_ LIKE HELL_

She gasped for breath and ran harder, there was no bloody way she was going to let those things — wargs is what the voice called them, _**kill**_ her. She flung her left hand out, grabbed a nearby tree and catapulted her body in that direction to further evade the disgusting creatures behind her — and the voice, yeah the voice too.

What Almárëa didn't count on was the intelligence the wargs possessed. They had separated their pack early in the chase to intercept her if ever she tried to evade the main pack. A signal howl from a warg behind her reverberated through the thick, black fog and trees; a sinister snarl from next to her was her only warning that the sister pack was there before a pair of jagged claws sank into her left side. The claws ripped through her simple shirt and tore at the flesh of her rib cage and hip.

A shrill cry escaped her as she pushed forward, her body aching with exertion, pain from her injuries, and terror. She knew they were gaining on her; they had been toying with her all along, staying just far enough behind that she thought she would make it out alive. That inkling of hope was decimated. The continual onslaught of bargaining from the voice just added to the feeling of inevitable doom.

When all her hope was lost and there was nothing she could possibly do but run, Almárëa was struck with a bolt of energy. This bolt was nothing like lightning, but shined with a more _ethereal_ gleam. That's when her world was turned upside down.

A deep pit opened up in the forest floor underneath her. She had only seconds to react to the impossibility of the event that had happened, knowing full well what would logically happen next.

"Oh shit…" She gasped looking at the wargs charging towards her.

She prepared for claws, but instead was sucked down the pit in a maelstrom of howling winds and darkness.

She expected to hear the voice from the fog; however, as the winds died down she was met only with silence. Almárëa waited to crash against rocks, hard-packed dirt, or even water, but none of it came.

She felt as if she had been falling for an eternity; not knowing what had happened to her parents, why those creatures had chased her, or when the falling would end.

Finally, when she felt her back hit a solid surface, it wasn't what she expected. It was plush and soft. That was odd. She couldn't see anything; still held in the encompassing darkness, unaware of the goings on around her. A weight fell on top of her, covering her from the neck down.

_What is happening…? _

Her neck was sore, as if she'd been sleeping for an extended period of days, but still her eyes ached for sleep. She felt her body grow heavy with the drowsy sensation and gave in finally. She made a final plea for her life before drifting away.

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**AN****: Let me know what you think in a review or private message. Any input, negative or no, is welcome. :)**


	3. Chapter 3 To Be Awake

Chapter 3 An Unlikely Fate 5

**AN:Thank you all for all of the views, reviews and the pms. Sorry to keep you waiting for so long. Please enjoy this chapter and ask me any questions.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings_**

**Here's some help for viewers on my writing style:**

_Italics are Almárëa's thoughts_

_"Italics with quotations are dream/ethereal/other worldly beings' dialogue"_

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Almárëa was jolted awake by the sound of water crashing against a wooden wharf. The unfamiliarity of her surroundings sent her heart into a panicked gallop. Her blood beat loud in her ears as she lifted herself up onto her elbows and glanced around. This was not her room.

The bed she was in seemed to be too large and plush. The frame was carved from what appeared to be a beige sandalwood - not the wrought iron she was used to. She craned her neck back looking at the headboard. Surprisingly it was carved from sandalwood as well, except it depicted an intricate design of beautiful ships sailing away on peaceful waters. Looking around the room she caught a glimpse of a set of very large doors that were open to what she thought was a small garden, the sheer curtains in front of the doors fluttered with a breeze that dazzled her senses.

Her gaze shifted around to spot a small table with a basin, a water pitcher and glass vials filled with different colors. Further to her left she spotted a high-backed chair carved from the exact same wood as the bed with what appeared to be clothing made from leather and smokey blue colors in an odd fashion she had not seen before draped over one arm.

Almárëa sat up completely, the plush white comforter she had been tucked under fell down, revealing a nightdress that was soft to the touch. She did not remember wearing such nightwear, nor did she remember changing into this particular gown. She picked at the long loose sleeves wearily. Where was she?

She glanced down at her arms, they weren't dirty from a day's work. She was utterly confused what had happened? She moved her legs and a jolt of pain shot up from her calf to her back. Gasping she threw the covers off of her lower half to reveal more of the nightgown and her legs. Slowly bending forward, she gripped the hem of the gown and lifted it to her knee, inspecting her calf. She stared confused. There was a long silver line that wrapped from her mid-calf to the outside of her knee. She couldn't remember how she got it. Maybe in an accident when she was younger, it must have been very old to be nearly invisible. However, the pain felt new. She absently traced the line and moved her leg slightly, trying with all her might to recollect the incident. She took a deep breath, the exhale burned and she whined audibly and clutched her side. The burning pain on her ribcage made her head throb.

Frightened, she yanked the buttons of the nightgown open and pulled the top to the left to look below her breast at jagged, silver lines. She stared awestruck.

"They look like claws . . ." She whispered to herself. Then it all came back to her, the wargs, the black fog, the people in her dream, and the hole that sucked her to god-knows-where.

"Where. . ?" She glanced around again, afraid once more of the unknown. Her eyes flashed around the room to find any trace of the foul creatures she had been fleeing from. But with no such darkness or nasty warped dogs in sight, her shoulders slumped back into a relaxed position. She sat up, swung her legs over the left side of the bed and made to get out of the plush mattress when her actions were interrupted when she heard footsteps from behind a closed door.

She tensed and stopped all movement immediately when the footsteps were accompanied by whimsical voices. Her eyes widened in horror as the knob on the door twisted and the door creaked open.

And there staring at her were a pair of faces she had never seen in her entire lifetime. They were beautiful and regal. Their hair was the finest dark chestnut she had seen; long, shiny and intricately styled. The angle of their cheekbones and long faces could command any room. However, the surprised expressions on the two faces that looked at her were anything but regal or commanding in nature, they were more curious and shocked than anything.

Almárëa gaped, her mouth opened and closed repeatedly like a fish. Her right hand shot up to grip the front of her nightgown together, frantically realizing she had not buttoned the garment back up. She flushed in embarrassment with the realization that one of them was not only taller, but considerably more masculine than the one that had opened up the door.

_"__Ah, goheno nin, hiril vuin (Ah, forgive me, my lady).__"_ The smaller one apologized upon Almárëa's expression and tense posture. Her voice was beautiful and lilting, though strange. Almárëa was confused at the odd ringing in her ear when the beautiful woman talked to her. It seemed as if she was hearing two things at once. She had little time to try and comprehend what the odd sensation was before the woman talked again, "_Av-__'__osto, le nathlam h__í__. Im Baineth (Do not be afraid, you are welcome here, I am called Baineth).__"_ She started to move more into the room with what looked to be wrapping cloth and salves. Almárëa froze in place as Baineth smiled warmly and sat the materials down on the end of the bed.

The man at the door, however, was none too kind. His face hardened as he stalked forward and yanked on Baineth's arm and started to speak hurriedly in her ear.

Almárëa could not hear what they were saying, but she watched Baineth's face contort into a fierce expression filled with rage. She yanked her arm out of the man's grasp and whirled on him, poking his chest as she said, _"Û__, boe de nestad Galdor(No, she needs healing Galdor).__" _

This so called 'Galdor' grimaced, nodded and then left the room. His footsteps echoed down the hallway before Almárëa heard a door open then shut close.

She looked at Baineth, who grumbled under her breath as she started to unravel a long piece of cloth. The woman glanced at her with a sympathetic smile. "My apologies," She said with a slight accent, no longer speaking the flowing language from before. That was when Almárëa finally understood what had occurred earlier. She was hearing two different languages at once. As if one was being said through an ear, and the english translation was being spoken into the other. Baineth continued, "Forgive me, my lady, my Westron is not very good."

Almárëa shook her head, "No it's fine. . ." Her eyebrows scrunched, "Pardon," She asked her hands twitching nervously as the woman's eyes met her's, "Westron?" She questioned.

Baineth smiled, "Yes, the common speech. Spoken by Men and Hobbits. Elves, Dwarves and other Folk have also taken up the tongue, but many still stay true to their mother speech." At the young girls increasingly dumfounded look, Baineth giggled. "I am Baineth, an Elf of the Grey Havens. That is where we are now. Galdor is also an Elf. Though quite the grumpy one. I suppose it's from Círdan having him run all about the great vast Arda doing Valar knows what. That's what he gets for being a Messenger to the lord."

Almárëa gawked at her, perplexed. She glanced at the female's face, the elegance etched there and the intelligence in her eyes. However, the one feature that gripped her fascination was the pointed tip of her ear. Her face drained of all color as the elleth went about unraveling more of the long cloth before approaching Almárëa.

"I shall heal your wound, if you will allow me," Her head notched to one side her eyes looking pointedly at the girl's unbuttoned nightgown.

Almárëa blinked slowly as the new information sank in. "Yes," She said as she let go of the two halves to let them fall unattached. Remembering her manners, her head jerked up, large blue eyes wide as she squeaked out a, "Please!" Which made Baineth smile as she worked on the long gashes on Almárëa's torso. The salve tingled and burned, but was altogether soothing and a welcome feeling in her state of confusion. With a slight tug, Baineth secured the strip of cloth around the girl's torso to protect the wound from possible irritation and infection.

Baineth moved away, but Almárëa barely noticed at all.

"Y-you said . . ." She started, "that we were in the Grey Havens . . ." She looked at the elleth, whom seemed unaware at the girl's struggle to grip reality.

"Yes, the great port in the Gulf of Lune of the Shipwright's creations. Many sail from Middle Earth to Valinor, the undying lands, to live out the rest of their lives in peace. None come back, only leave." Baineth explained with a sense of whimsy in the inflection of her voice.

"But, how did I come to be at this port?" Almárëa questioned in astonishment.

"I have not a clue, my lady. Lord Círdan found you. He only asked I look over you in my home until you were well enough to meet with his lordship." She came back to Almárëa at the bed with the strange garments that had been draped over the chair in the corner. "Which shall be as soon as you are dressed and properly fed to my liking." The smile on Baineth's face was one of pride, but of what the girl could not tell.

Almárëa was not used to the different fastenings, the layers, strange accessories and odd undergarments. Baineth had stripped her of the nightgown and had started to leave, but had returned to the girl when she tripped on the clothing was an absolute struggle for them.

While the two fought to right the garment, Almárëa kept apologizing for her lack of experience with the type of fashion.

For her the shock of her current situation was enormous and putting clothing on was a more daunting task than she could handle by herself at the moment.

_I must have been discarded in the looney bin and Baineth is my nurse. I must have crafted this fantasy to cope with everything because I went looney, that__'__s the only logical explanation._

But the reality was so palpable. The texture of the leather, the silk of the clothing, Baineth's elvish curses, the slight itch from her healing wounds — all were so real. How could it feel so life-like, but psychologically be wrong. Her mind kept telling her that this was all so strangely wrong; that this was not what her life was supposed to consist of. Elves, Dwarves, Hobbits —the foreign languages, could not exist. Not ever.

But she couldn't shake the last memory she had of falling through the earth after being chased by shadows and twisted animals. Her parents missing. The forest she grew up in, gnarled and extra-terrestrial. Her head was pounding; her poor brain working overtime.

Almárëa's momentary stiffness as she examined all the likelihoods of her being dead or crazy gave Baineth enough time to completely right the garments on the girl. The elleth stepped back, while letting out a puff of air at their accomplishment.

"My apologizes, milady, it must have slipped my mind that you came to us in very unusual clothing, very unlike ours. I should have known you would require assistance. How daft of me…" Baineth shook her head in discontent as she started to walk out of the room, "Come along, we must get you fed and to the lordship post haste!"

Almárëa blinked in a stupor, glancing down at her attire briefly painting a picture of how stupid she must look. She was wearing what appeared to be deep blue leggings; eloquent - yet worn, brown boots; a soothing pastel blue tunic - which resembled what she thought must be a pirate's shirt, ending at her elbows; and a pair of warm, leather bracers on her forearms. She groaned, it was utterly ridiculous.

_Well at least it__'__s not a dress__…_

Huffing a strand of hair out of her face, Almárëa started after Baineth. What she didn't expect was to walk down several open corridors that looked over a magnificent garden filled with plants and flowers she had never seen; on through what appeared to be a study which contained even more of the sandal wood and into a humble kitchen with a singular table and chair.

She slammed her gaping maw shut, careful not to offend the elleth as she had been most kind thus far.

Baineth paid no mind to the young girl behind her as she prepared what looked to be a bowl of blue and red berries, a plate of bread with cheese and a glass of clear, milky liquid. Turning to the table, she set the bowl and plate down, only to retrieve the glass afterward and place it along side it. She stood back and a slight smile creased her mouth.

The elleth turned to the girl. They stared at each other for some time before Baineth frowned.

"Is something wrong? Is the meal not sufficient or to your liking?" She looked harried and began to wring her hands and glance at the meal aforementioned.

Almárëa finally broke away from her thoughts of the beauty of the home she was in and gaped at the elleth. "Oh, oh no!" She shook her head hurriedly, "I — I was merely in shock of my surroundings! Your house is ginormous and beautiful." She finally was able to choke the praise out, nervous that she might offend the woman in any way.

Baineth simply tilted her head in confusion, "It is of normal size, and is not just mine. Although the part of the Havens we are in currently is mine, yes."

As Almárëa moved to sit down at the table and eat, she gave the elleth a confused look.

Baineth watched the girl start eating and decided to elaborate, "The Grey Havens are all interconnected housing and common areas that we share or own exclusively; the whole of the Havens are no one's to own, as we are entitled to our share of the rooms and living quarters. The rooms we passed through are some of mine, but not all." She watched the girl take a bite of the bread and cheese. She giggled when the girl made a face, and yet swallowed the food anyway. "The bread is to fill you up, make sure you eat the berries to give you energy. And drink the milk I have prepared."

Almárëa scarfed down half of the berries before glancing at the opaque liquid. She watched it suspiciously, not sure if she should drink the odd 'milk' or not. Her eyes darted to Baineth, picking the glass up and sipping a tiny portion into her parched mouth.

To say she was utterly shocked by the taste was an understatement. It was sweet like honey, but cold and had the consistency of water.

"I'm sorry but what kind of milk is this?" She asked the elleth watching her.

Baineth presented her with a smile filled with pride, "It is a mixture of milk and honey wine. It will make you calm and happy."

Almárëa glanced at the liquid. It had tasted amazing, even if it was alcohol. She downed the whole glass, setting it down gently. She found Baineth with her eyes and smiled.

"Thank you for feeding, caring and providing me with clothing." Her face burned, she had never had to rely on a stranger for aid.

Baineth nodded and began to walk away, "Yes, it was my pleasure to do so. Come along, Lord Círdan is not one to be kept waiting long."

Almárëa stood up, nearly knocking her chair to the ground, to follow Baineth through another open room and corridor to walk down a path in the garden.

"Will he be able to tell me why I am here?" She inquired, "The lordship I mean." She ducked under a low hanging branch, which subsequently gave her the chance to hide her blushing face which was the result of her near forgetfulness.

Baineth raised her eyebrows in confusion, before glancing off in the direction they were walking, "Perhaps. . . he knows many things, but not as much as some of the other Elven Lords of Arda."

Almárëa did not ask any further questions, fearing she would potentially talk the lovely elleth's ear off. Figuratively speaking, of course.

Her inner thoughts of her potential meeting with the lord were interrupted when Baineth came to a complete halt infront of a staircase at the end of the path through the garden. Almárëa berated herself for not observing the beautiful plants and scenery they had wandered through.

"This is where I depart from your presence until further notice, my apologizes." Baineth bowed her head and smiled. "May we meet in the future . . ." She turned and left back down the path they had taken.

Almárëa watched until Baineth disappeared behind a bend in the path and trees, before turning to the stairs. She cautiously started up them, only to be confronted by two elven men clad in what appeared to be armor. It seems they had been guards, meant to protect the Lord of the Grey Havens.

The ellon escorted her up farther past a landing to a study that was lit with many candles and filled with scrolls and books.

And there sitting in a plush chair, reading a scroll, was Lord Círdan. Long, pale grey hair, his eyes a deep green. He looked up and met her eyes.

"Dear young seafarer, how I have anticipated our meeting with you conscious." Círdan addressed her with a bow of his head. He did not look happy, nor mad. He gave her an impression that he suppressed his emotions to be neutral.

And with the fated meeting, she would finally understand why and how she came to be in Middle Earth amongst the Elves of the Grey Havens, west of the Shire where Thorin and Company were about to pester a poor Hobbit that lived under a hill.

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**AN:** **I will post chapter 4 as soon as I am finished and able to do so. Hopefully that shall be soon. :) Please leave a review or a suggestion or negative feedback. I have no qualms with any aid at all.**


	4. Chapter 4 It's a Start

Chapter 4 It's a Start

**AN: Sorry about the long wait everyone, college is just around the corner and it's been a hassle to get ready. Here is the next installment of my story. As always I hope you enjoy the story and don't forget to review!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings_**

**Here's some help for viewers on my writing style:**

_Italics are Almárëa's thoughts_

_"Italics with quotations are dream/ethereal/other worldly beings' dialogue"_

* * *

"Conscious . . . ?" Almárëa asked quite shocked. Was he implying they had met in other circumstances? A dream perhaps? That would be highly unlikely as she only has had one recurring dream over the past two years.

She did not need to ponder the implications much longer as he spoke again.

"Yes, 'conscious'. The last I recall, you were floating unconscious near the wharf with all manner of sea life on your skin and strange clothing." He told her matter-of-factly, an eyebrow raised in question to the condition of her arrival.

Almárëa shivered, the thought of little organisms taking a ride on her body and clothing was a _little_ unsettling.

"Usually," The lord began as he stood, rolling the long scroll as he went, "Travelers arrive in vessels, and from here - Mithlond - they do not arrive, they leave." He stared at her once more after placing the scroll on a desk already piled high with countless others.

"I do not know of my coming my lord, I . . ." She thought to the events that led up to her awakening in the Grey Havens; the shadow beasts, the voice, the giant hole that sucked her away from home. "I don't completely understand what is happening. . ."

Círdan walked closer to where she was standing, inspecting her being from head to toe. "It is not unusual for beings to arrive in the Havens — it's just very . . . rare." His dark green eyes pierced hers — searching for answers she did not have.

"What beings . . ? If I may ask." She questioned him, curious even in her — what she believed was — perilous situation.

He glanced behind her, before turning towards a balcony to stare calculating across the open water.

Almárëa twisted her neck to look behind herself without moving or shifting her feet. The armored elves were gone and the door was partially closed. She could have sworn the guards had been there during their whole conversation; however, it looks like the sneaky bastards were gone.

She turned back to Círdan, and became surprised when she discovered him watching her intently.

"Only the Ishtari, with exceptional circumstances, have ever arrived here on their quest for the Valor." He said calmly, but his eyes watched her's for any sign of recognition.

"Are they like me? Were they not born here, but somewhere else?" Questions started to bubble in her head at the thought of others like her.

The Lord shook his head, his eyes twinkled with mirth as his smile creased the corners of his mouth, "No, quite different you are from them." He walked over to a collection of books on ornate bookcases and picked one off a high shelf before turning back to her. "They are older men, quite weathered with time and wisdom. Only five arrived, no more, no less. All at the same time with a quest in mind." He set the book on a desk and started to flip through the pages, "Never has a young elleth such as yourself arrived here, they only leave for the Undying Lands — as the Common folk call them."

She was confused. So they were not like her after all. Her heart deflated, all the hope that had surged through it a second before, gone. She was about to desperately question the lord when he once more interrupted her thoughts.

"Nor do the lores of old tell of the arrival of a sixth person." He glanced up at her, "Your arrival was quite unexpected. I did not recognize your clothing. An incident like this has never occurred here in Mithlond." He frowned, his forehead creasing with lines and his eyes downcast. "I'm afraid I do not posses the knowledge of why or how for you. Your questions are waisted on a shipwright and master of the port." He looked up at her, his eyes shining with shame at his lack of aid.

Almárëa felt a sigh of defeat leave her body. Her deep cerulean eyes reflected his shame for her own lack of knowledge of her arrival. It was humiliating to be unaware of how she came to be in this world and in the presence of such hospitable and kind folk as the 'elves' of the Grey Havens.

The Lord left her with one hope, "I will continue to scour my collection to find any advice that I can in giving you, but do not hope too much, elleth," he had bid her farewell shortly thereafter.

She groaned as she descended the stairs, she would have to impose upon Baineth once more until the lord had sufficiently probed his vast collection of scrolls and books. She wondered if the older elleth would mind the girl staying for a few days — it might take the lord even longer.

At the bottom step, she stopped. Glancing ahead she spied the lovely garden path and the beautiful flora. This time she would definitely take her time and enjoy the walk, she'd be in the port city for quite a while.

* * *

Almárëa was occupied with helping Baineth with washing the past week's clothing in a large basin when the summons arrived.

She had been granted a place to stay with the kind elleth after her first meeting with Lord Círdan on the condition she would aid Baineth with regular chores. She learned the schedule quickly after the first day of waiting for the lord to pry any knowledge he could from the extensive library in his study.

Almárëa still awoke from the exact same dream from before her arrival. Nothing had changed except her physical setting.

The days were calm and peaceful, it was after the first day that Galdor returned to the residence she shared with Baineth that they became more spirited. He was accepting and kind, although still suspicious of the girl. She didn't blame him; she'd be suspicious too. Almárëa learned that Baineth had been ignoring Galdor's advances to be in a courtship together; how that effected her relationship with the ellon was beyond her reckoning. He did speak to her in simple phrases now at least, instead of the angry stare and whispered conversation he had first enacted upon her awakening.

It had been three days before she was summoned back to the Lord's study. Galdor had been the bearer of the summons. At first, Almárëa had thought it was a ploy to get Baineth alone so he may try his tactics again, but the stern, and yet oddly concerned look on his face left her with a different feeling than playful suspicion.

She had left her friend and Galdor in the meeting room of Baineth's part of the complex megalith that was the Grey Havens living quarters to travel down the same path in the garden she had taken once before. The daylight was fading as the sun set across the waves on the horizon. The garden was shaded and dark, golden lights shone from outdoor corridors and open windows. She moved through the garden with haste, eager to know if there was any hope to returning back home or any advice in seeking aid to do so.

She encountered guards again at the same point on the stairs as before, and as a fortnight ago, she was escorted quietly up the stairs to the study and left with the Lord of the Havens.

Círdan did not look at her as she entered the room and the guards left. A few minutes passed — the sun had finally been replaced by the moon and stars, before he turned towards her. His face was sullen, his eyes tired and his body held up precariously. She imagined he had been up late into the nights of the past three days doing all he could. He looked terrible, with little sleep and in dire need to be at peace, but he still commanded attention with his stance and sharp eyes.

"I apologize, but this could not wait until tomorrow. I have kept you long as it is." He stated with a sigh and a hard glance at the disarray of his study.

Almárëa's heart skittered frantically. Could it be that he had finally figured out what happened?

"My Lord, thank you s—" She began with tears shinning in her eyes. However, the shipwright gave her a grim expression and cut her off with the raise of his hand.

"No, do not thank me for I have nothing to offer you." He looked at her with shame, his face betrayed his elven parentage as the light from the candles aged him ten-fold with his shame and defeat. He had turned up nothing. Nothing at all from the great vast library in the Havens nor from his own study.

"But what am I supposed to do? What am I doing here?" She questioned him quietly as she held back the tears and squelched the dread in her stomach.

He sighed and sat in a chair, "I have no answers my young elleth. I am merely a shipwright and an elf, I am not one of the greater elves nor am I an Ishtari with celestial knowledge. I cannot help you, and I shall not keep you here any longer." He stood again and pulled a giant scroll from a pile, causing it to collapse into the mess already littering the study. Círdan tsk'd in anger at the event, but left it as is for more important matters were at hand. "_Tolo (Come).__"_ He waved her towards a desk that was surprisingly empty of any scrolls or parchment. He unrolled the scroll to reveal an enormous map of a region of the world unknown to Almárëa.

_ Of course you wouldn't know, you don't even know where you are . . ._

She shook her head to clear her inner monologue to focus on the map before her.

"You must leave as soon as possible to hold council with the White Wizard or the Lady of the Forest. Either may be able to help you. Which and how, I am not certain. If you are able to hold council with both, that would be more preferable in your case. You need all the knowledge and advice you can receive." He pointed at an inlet on the map. "This is where we are — Mithlond, you must travel east. Take this route," He traced a long, slender finger on the map, skittering across several rivers to a mountain range. "Through the Tower Hills, across the Far and White Downs and to the edge of the Shire. Here you must deviate from the roads as they are no longer safe. Raiders, greedy men and sly folk take advantage of those on the roads even this far into the Shire." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and added, "Women folk are vulnerable and targeted — even those skilled in combat are attacked."

She did not wish to encounter any trouble on her journey, wherever her destination may be, and made a mental note to make sure to take at least a knife to protect herself if she did run into unsavory folk.

Círdan continued to outline a safe route for her to follow, "You will need to find a way to cross the Sarn Ford on the Brandywine." He paused to think for a few seconds before continuing, "Some are nice enough to give travelers passage across free of charge. It's all up to luck with that. Next you must stay off the Green Way road and continue to cut across the countryside through the South Downs until you reach the Bruinen River— in common tongue — Loudwater." He pointed to one of two rivers and followed it upward, "You will need to acquire a way of passage or simply follow the river upward and pass at the ford. That decision is up to you entirely." He stopped his finger on a large civilization marker labeled 'Imlardis', "Rivendell is your destination."

Almárëa straightened her stance and her back to give her brain a second to process the information given to her. She closed her eyes to memorize the instructions and to paint a map in her mind. She glanced at the map again, trying to accurately gauge the distance and her needs.

She had not realized the Lord had left her side until he spoke from the other side of the room.

"You will need to speak to Lord Elrond immediately upon arrival in Rivendell," He was searching through a pile of parchment, shifting piles that eventually fell to the floor and scattered about his feet. From what she glimpsed, some were correspondence to others in a bizarre language and some were ship construction diagrams.

"What am I to tell him?" She inquired of the occupied ellon, "And how do I prove I'm telling the truth?" She walked to stand closer to him as he continued to search.

"I've already written a correspondence to Lord Elrond for you, all you need to do is hand him this," he handed her a scroll that was sealed with melted blue wax pressed with three ships sailing towards a horizon.

She glanced at the lord, confused. "Will it tell him my purpose for being there?" She held the scroll in her small hands delicately.

"It shall, as well your need for shelter and guidance until the White Wizard or the Lady of Lorien can be contacted in your stead." He stated, finally calming down. "I'm afraid this may be our last time seeing each other until it is your time to leave this land for those across the sea." His eyes were solemn, "May you live long, sweet elleth, and bring the same peace you feel here with you." He smiled a sad smile before bowing his head in dismissal.

"Thank you for your aid and hospitality, Lord Círdan." She, in turn, bowed her head in respect with a smile.

As she turned to the door with the scroll in hand, Lord Círdan uttered a just barely audible phrase in his native tongue, _"__Novear a galu ( Farewell and good luck).__"_

Almárëa pretended to not hear him as she walked through the door and started down the stairs once more. She figured the words were not merely for her, but for his own peace of mind. Once more, at the bottom step, she looked out at the garden path and the fauna in the darkness of night. This might be her last time viewing such a beautiful sight. She might die on her way to finding answers, or, on a brighter note, find peace somewhere in this strange world.

The blonde started down the garden path in the dark, silently thankful for all the lit outdoor corridors. She hesitated once she reached the entrance to the corridor that led to Baineth's residence. Would her friend of three days — such an extremely short time in the lifespan of elves, allow her to leave on her own? Even if she begged?

_ She may be concerned for your well-being, but she would not deny you something so important, do not be ridiculous. . . _

She took a steadying breath, pushed down on the door handle and walked into the common area of Baineth's portion of the complex. Almárëa smiled at Baineth, as well as Galdor — who unsurprisingly had not left yet. The couple appeared to have been in deep discussion in their native tongue; faces close together with serious expressions creasing their elegant faces. They immediately separated from each other and ceased all conversation. Baineth, however, did not hide the worried expression on her face.

She came closer to Almárëa, looking deep into her eyes. _"__Prestad? (Is there trouble?).__" _Baineth asked as she corralled her friend to take a seat.

"I have to leave." She refused to sit down in one of the high backed chairs. "And very soon, I'm afraid." She glanced at the flames of the fireplace dance in the dark room.

"No, you cannot!" Baineth quietly groused, "You will not leave, not until I believe you are ready to do so." The elleth came closer to Almárëa and gave her a soft glare full of maternal love, "You are still in shock from your awakening, _henig (child)._"

"Baineth, you do not understand. That is why I must leave." She walked away from the elleth, "The Lord said that the White Wizard or the Lady of the Forest could help me. He asked that I take refuge in Imlardis." She turned to give the elleth a stern look. "I must leave."

"No!" Baineth yelled back. "You will not."

Galdor stood from his chair to confront Baineth. He placed a hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. "She must go. She needs to know who she is. Answers are hard to find in this world. If the master has given her advice, she must follow it." He glanced over Baineth's head at the youngling, silently pleading her to go on. His voice dropped to a quiet, yet powerful rumble in Elvish as Almárëa started to tip toe away.

Once in the kitchen, heart pounding, she started to rummage for light provisions. She quickly packed a cloth full with bread, cheese, limbas bread and grabbed a butcher's knife — for protection, she told herself. She glanced at the open corridor to the living area, filled with warm fire light and quiet voices. She let out a harsh breath and started for the hallway to the living quarters. There she could pack a spare outfit and a cloak.

When she reached the room she had been staying in, she threw open the armoire and packed a pair of lighter clothing. Almárëa could not, for the life of her, find a cloak within the wooden closet. She tried to steel herself, where in the bloody hell were the cloaks? She racked her memory of the past few days and immediately remembered the small closet before the back way out of Baineth's home.

Quietly she ran down the hallway and through the kitchen to another corridor. Nearly to the door that led through another garden, she turned to her right and pressed a hidden panel to open the closet. Within were five cloaks. Two were decorative and light, the others were plain and heavier. She grabbed a light brown one that had little wear and tear. The blonde glanced back down the corridor she had ran down, hearing Baineth yelling in a high tone at Galdor, her foot steps echoing throughout the maze of rooms.

Her heart started to beat with a quickening pulse as the footsteps grew closer. The girl quickly tied the cloak around herself. She had been wrong, her friend wanted her to stay, be it for her good or not. She turned to the door in front of her. She had to leave and immediately, otherwise the elleth would stop her at all costs.

Her covered feet flew across the dirt path through the garden. She tried with all her might to keep quiet to not draw any attention to herself. She ran past a long building, determined to leave on foot, when a whinny from within made her stop and back track.

Inside were a dozen horses, all asleep — except for one. A chestnut stallion stared back at her with hidden intelligence. She could feel her time for departure waning, but a horse was much faster than her feet alone. She nodded at the horse in recognition of his intelligence before saddling him. He would not cooperate with the reins, and determinedly flicked his head about when she repeatedly attempted to put the reins on.

"Okay, fine, fine. No reins. Okay?" She placed the reins back on their peg on a wall before climbing onto the saddle on his back. "I need to get to the ford in the Shire." She gripped his mane. "Please be a fast horse." With that last comment said, the stallion snorted and took off out of the stables without Almárëa's consent. "Holy shit." Her grip in his mane tightened as he sped out of the last gate to the Grey Havens.

Beyond her, in the dark, were the Tower Hills and the two Downs she needed to cross in order to reach the Shire. She had little time to contemplate anyone else on her journey and hoped the stallion was a sure-footed as he led her on to be.

* * *

AN:_ Hopefully this helped shed light on the situation, the next installment is already half-way written, I shall upload it as soon as I am finished and my editor(beta) has reviewed it and catches any mistakes. _

_**Please review and follow!**  
_


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